for D.T.
the night keeps getting longer and
there’s nothing I can do if your heart stops
it’s all over but the breathing
the way I imagine your body ending
like the Doppler effect of the planes landing at Pearson
tonality dropping descending like a fine white line
contextualized in nervy images
impulses scattered like the last spasms of breath
as air becomes confusing
the phone doesn’t matter any more
let it ring
rejoicing the ascension of spirit
the power play of balance ending
but I can’t get past the tension in my throat
the way these tears can suddenly sweep me up
take me dam bursting
controlled numbness is fleeting the emotions left in its wake
beginning to ascend catching at my throat
plaster the day-to-day look on my face
and hope you don’t see through it
to the lost control threatening
behind my tightened lips
hearing grown so acute with silence
I can hear the sixty cycle hum of the light
notice its absence as darkness amplifies around me
© Catherine Jenkins, 2002/2014
published Descant, Summer 2002
Peterborough Poets 